


A Nice Day to Start Again

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Character Study, Domesticity, Engagement, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: It’s easy for Billy to decide to take Steve’s last name.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	A Nice Day to Start Again

**Author's Note:**

> the first couple lines of this came to me one night and would've leave me alone so i've done what i never thought i'd do and wrote harringrove. this is very soft. so absurdly soft. 
> 
> big thanks to han for beta'ing and cath for coming up with the wedding palette. the missing tag is "alternate universe - gays could get married in the 80s/90s" because it wasn't until i was 1500 words in that i realized i was writing this with a canon timeline in mind and therefore them getting courthouse married wasn't actually a possibility. 
> 
> anyway, enjoy!

It’s easy for Billy to decide to take Steve’s last name. 

He’s never felt very close to the Hargrove name anyway. 

Despite this, Steve seems shocked.

Maybe it’s because Billy had been the one to propose—on a beach in California at the peak of summertime, waves washing the sand off their feet and the sun painting everything pink-orange-red. Maybe it’s because Billy still calls Steve “princess,” even though he’s the furthest thing from a girl even at his prissiest. Maybe it’s because Billy still twitches when people give them the eye in public, their narrow gazes screaming _fag_ even if their mouths are shut. Maybe it’s that Billy seems like more of a man, or more of a coward. 

Billy doesn’t know what it is and doesn’t care to ask. He’s sure in his decision, reaffirms it every time Steve asks. 

* * *

He’s sitting on the fire escape of their Chicago apartment when Steve comes and finds him. Steve’s wrapped up in a blanket, looking like some old Russian grandmother, bleary-eyed with sleep. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Steve says, gesturing to Billy’s bare chest. His gaze lingers on the large scar in the dead center, faint pink tissue a reminder of the Mind Flayer’s hold on him. “It’s fucking freezing out here.” 

“S’not that bad,” Billy says, because it isn’t. It’s nothing compared to what the Upside Down felt like. It’s nothing compared to the grip the Mind Flayer had on him, a constant chill dripping down his back. Winter is child’s play, even in Illinois where snow is starting to drift down and will be at least two feet tall come morning. 

Steve doesn’t argue; he never does about this. Even if he doesn’t get it. Instead he sidles up beside Billy on the fire escape, worming his way into Billy’s personal space like he owns it. Which he does, but Billy doesn’t like to say so; it goes to his pretty head too easily. Billy scoffs at himself—as though asking Steve to marry him isn’t proclamation enough that he’s whipped, owned so thoroughly by this man. 

“You’re still sure?” Steve asks after a bit. He reaches for the cigarette in Billy’s hands and takes a drag before passing it back. As he speaks, silvery smoke drifts out between his full, pink lips. “I won’t be mad, you know.”

They’ve been engaged for three months now, and this is the third time Steve’s asked. The first was the same night Billy proposed, and the second was when they told Steve’s family.

Billy rolls his eyes. He sucks greedily on his cigarette before answering. The nicotine fills his lungs and calms him, soothes him just as Steve’s weight against him does. “I’m sure,” he replies quietly. “I don’t want anything to do with him, anymore.”

Steve nods. Steve probably thinks he means Neil, and he’s half right. The less Billy is reminded of his piece of shit father, the better. But Billy means himself, too; he doesn’t want anything to do with _Billy Hargrove_ anymore. Billy Hargrove was a douchebag who terrorized kids, broke hearts like he could earn an Olympic medal for it. Billy Hargrove was angry at all the wrong things. Billy Hargrove was dangerous. 

And Billy now is still angry, but he’s getting better. He’s still dangerous, but only when it’s deserved. He doesn’t terrorize kids anymore, and he swore a long time ago to never break Steve Harrington’s heart. He’s changed, something he didn’t think was possible. He thinks—hopes—that taking Steve’s last name might help the change feel real. Might make it feel permanent, instead of something that could regress at a moment’s notice. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Steve says as he plucks the dwindling cigarette from Billy’s hand again. He stubs it out on the metal railing and lets it drop into the alley below. “You can keep me warm.”

* * *

They’re in the Harrington family kitchen, the wedding six months away, when Steve brings it up again. Amazingly enough, it’s not even annoying like Billy would expect. He’s not sure why that is. Whether it’s the familiarity of Steve being anxious over the silliest things (and sometimes not-so-silly things, like sounds late at night and eyes in the treeline). Maybe it’s the delight at being certain of something for once in his life. He hasn’t had that a lot, there are only a handful of things he knows with absolute certainty. Things like loving Steve, hating his dad, knowing monsters are real.

Wanting to take Steve’s last name. 

“We could always hyphenate,” Steve says as he stirs the pasta sauce. In the dining room a few feet away, the kids are playing D&D. Billy doesn’t get the game, but he likes watching them yell at each other. Especially Max, who always glances at him when she triumphs. “I don’t mind. Steve Hargrove has a nice ring to it.”

It would, if the name weren’t so tainted for Billy. It’s also a mouthful to hyphenate their names. He doesn’t explain all that, just shakes his head. He steps away from the counter, tearing his eyes away from the D&D session to wrap his arms around Steve’s waist instead. He presses a kiss to the side of his neck. 

“Billy Harrington has a better ring to it,” he murmurs. He can feel Steve’s grin without having to see it.

* * *

Neil Hargrove dies two months before Billy and Steve’s wedding. 

Susan calls him and leaves a message on their answering machine but Billy doesn’t bother calling her back. The last thing he wants to do is waste time and money flying out to Indiana for a funeral he doesn’t even want to be at. She knows that, he’s sure. Max will be there, because even at his worst he was at least a somewhat better father to her than he ever was to Billy. 

He and Steve are in bed early that night when it comes up again. Even if Billy didn’t like his dad—fucking hated him, has been counting down the days for him to kick the bucket—it still takes an emotional toll knowing he’s dead. There’s the guilt, as though Billy could’ve ever done anything to be a better son. There’s the anger, that it wasn’t Billy who got to end him, preferably with his hands around his throat. There’s the sadness, knowing what Billy could’ve, _should’ve_ had and never got. There’s so much, it’s all overwhelming, so when Steve coaxes him to bed while it’s still daylight out, Billy doesn’t object. 

The sunset streams into their bedroom in shades of oranges and yellow, not unlike the lighting that painted their proposal. It’s kind of nice, even if it’s hard for Billy to fully appreciate. 

For the first time since they got engaged, when Steve asks quietly if Billy is still sure, irritation flares up inside Billy’s skull. He can almost picture it, as though the simple and soft words are a spark hitting a dry patch of grass, and the field going up in flames happens in an instant. 

Billy only grits his teeth against the feeling even though he wants to lash out and snap at his boyfriend, _fiancé_. He takes a moment, drags in a shaking breath, tries to get his feelings under control. Steve never lets go of him even though he can surely feel the tension radiating in Billy’s body. 

“It’s not like he’s worth remembering,” Billy eventually says. Steve is spooned against his back and Billy is grateful to not have to look at him. “Better his name dies with him.”

Steve kisses the back of Billy’s neck. For the first time, he has a rebuttal, and it surprises Billy of out being annoyed. “You could change the legacy, though. You’re not like him.”

“I was,” Billy replies simply. “For a long time I was _exactly_ like him. And if I keep that name I always will be.” 

Steve falls silent at that. Billy relaxes in his hold steadily. He’s almost asleep, albeit fitfully, when Steve speaks again. 

“What if we just got it taken care of right now?” 

Billy frowns. “What do you mean?” His words are heavy with almost-sleep but he focuses on Steve’s reply.

“Let’s just get married right now. Tomorrow, we go down to the courthouse and get a couple witnesses and get married right now. Then we get your name changed in time for the ceremony.”

Billy furrows his brow at the wall opposite their bed before twisting in Steve’s grasp so that they’re nose to nose. “What?”

Steve looks away, a sheepish blush high on his cheeks. “I don’t like the idea of the name ruining our ceremony.”

“Our special day, you mean?” Billy can’t help but tease. 

Steve pinches his side. “Yeah, asshole, our _special_ _day._ It’s going to be filmed, and I don’t want us watching it years down the line and cringing when Hopper asks if you, Billy _Hargrove_ , take me to be your lawfully wedded husband.”

Something twists inside Billy’s chest. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling—he knows it’s what love feels like. The knowledge that Steve cares for him so deeply to do something like this for him. To be so thoughtful and caring. 

Billy kisses him. Steve makes a soft noise of surprise into it but kisses back, cupping Billy’s cheek tenderly. 

“You mean it?” Billy asks against his lips. 

Steve grins and nods. “Yeah, of course.” 

* * *

Billy tugs nervously at the sleeves of his suit—the color is something called _rose sand_ but it’s mostly a muted, pale brown that sort of looks pink in some lights—and glances out the window. The majority of people are already seated and those who aren’t are making their way over. It’s not a huge wedding: the kids, their families, and Steve’s family. Steve’s family takes up the majority of the guest list, something about Italian families and relatives flying in from god knows where. 

Steve clears his throat in the doorway, startling Billy.

“What, no worries about bad luck?” Billy says. He and Steve haven’t seen each other since the night before. Steve’s mom had insisted on Steve staying with them for the night while Billy stayed on the Hopper-Byers’ couch. Steve’s suit is pinker, peachier, and it brings out the natural flush in his cheeks. His hair is tall and luscious, held in place by his trusty Farrah Fawcett spray, no doubt.

“I think we’ve had all the bad luck we can,” Steve says. Billy rolls his eyes, doesn’t bother saying they’re tempting fate with thoughts like that. Steve knows already. “Besides, I just wanted to check in with you.”

Billy knows what Steve’s asking without him really saying it. It’s been a while since he brought it up; the last time was on the courthouse steps.

“My name is already _William Harrington_ , there’s no going back now.”

Steve grins the same way he does every time he thinks about Billy having his last name. “No, there’s not. I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

Steve comes to him, attaches to him like an octopus. Billy doesn’t mind, even though it will surely wrinkle their suits and Steve’s mom will have a slight fit when the wedding video is anything less than perfect. 

Billy shakes his head. He doesn’t say how much it pleases him to hear it. Steve definitely already knows. “C’mon, Princess, can’t keep your loyal subjects waiting.” Steve shifts to wrap a hand around Billy’s arm as they slip from the room.

The building beside the garden where the ceremony is happening is mostly empty now. Everyone is downstairs, taking their seats or getting ready to walk down the aisle. It’s nice to have a few moments of privacy. 

“They’re your _loyal subjects_ too, y’know.” Steve bumps against him as they walk, a companionable gesture. 

“What, am I Prince Harrington now?” 

Steve looks far too pleased. “Yeah, I think you are.” 

Billy rolls his eyes. They’re in the lobby now, and there are a few people milling about. “I better get to my spot.”

“Goodbye sweet prince,” Steve says. Before Billy can get far though, Steve reaches for Billy’s gold tie and tugs him in for a kiss. 

“Fucking nerd,” Billy says against his lips. “I can’t believe I’m marrying you.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says, and Billy would go so far as to call his tone _dreamy_ , “me neither.” 


End file.
